


Brother dearest.

by IAmNotOneOfThem, sl0ff



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Incest, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, NSFW, Omega Mycroft, Role-play styled text, Sherlock’s experiment gone wrong, role-play, unwanted incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotOneOfThem/pseuds/IAmNotOneOfThem, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sl0ff/pseuds/sl0ff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock steals Mycroft’s heat suppressant tablets for an experiment, things don’t exactly to plan. Role-play based story between myself IAmNotOneOfThem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A role-play between myself and IAmNotOneOfThem. My parts are Sherlock while her parts are Mycroft. As this is a role-play the format is a little strange, so please keep that in mind. Sherlock is supposed to be around 17 at the time while Mycroft is supposed to be 19/20.

The brontide accompanied Mycroft Holmes on his way back to the family’s estate, the evening being young and petrichor laying in the air like a thick blanket embracing the oxygen tightly. He just had been out for his usual walk, an old tradition the young adult had unconsciously taken from his father, a cacoethes like it was written down in an enchiridion. It always caused Mycroft to feel physically exhausted, and he did not like the feeling of returning into the warmth of the house after walking in the coldness - often accompanied by rain or even a light storm - of the evening. He shook his brolly to dry it briefly, before opening the door, handing the object over to a servant and then walking towards the bathroom. It was time to take his suppressants, and to control his body temperature and pulse, just like he did every second day of the week.  
But as he opened the cabinet above the washbasin, he couldn’t find the pills. Not even after searching in the ones next to it, just in case he had forgotten to put them into the right one - which was rather impossible with him being anything but hamartithian, but Mycroft wasn’t a fantast and therefore didn’t believe that he was without mistakes. Narrowing his eyebrows, he briefly scanned the area, searching for any clues and quickly finding them. Mycroft sighed somewhat annoyed, turning around and walking into the living room where Sherlock lay, spread out on the causeuse. The elder tapped with his dactylion on its backrest, waiting patiently.  
 **“Where did you put my suppressants, Sherlock?”**

The younger, and by far the more socially abnormal of the Holmes brothers, did not respond to his sibling for some time, instead lifting his hand and raising one finger as he continued to read until he reached the end of the page of the book he was engrossed in. He wasn’t usually one for none fictional books, finding the plot lines far to unscientific and full of lose plot lines that the author made no real attempt to tie together irritating, but once in a while he indulged himself, this being one of those rare occurrences.  
He slowly closed the book after tucking in the thin red strip of ribbon to keep his page without having to fold over the corner of the paper (a horrible habit his mother detested, passing the dislike onto her two sons).  
 **“Your pills? I used them. Not on myself mind you. I wanted to see if the chemical compounds responded to higher levels of sulphate in the blood. They don’t. The experiment was useless though I guess it’s better to know then be left in the dark, don’t you think?”** Though his face remained a blank slate of emotion his voice had a slight lilt at the end, dripping with that tone of voice which could only really translate to a thinly veiled ‘fuck you’. It had become a game of sorts over the years for the two of them to try and one up each other. Nothing to dangerous or obscene mind you. Nothing that would damage the house, well, not since that time Sherlock decided it would be best to see the effects of burning charcoal in a confined area (the ‘confined area’ being the underside of Mycroft’s bed. It had taken weeks to renovate the room to remove smoke damage).  
 **“They're gone. You can buy more, I’ve seen you do so. Just ask one of the house maids to pick you up a new batch tomorrow”** he gave Mycorft an off handed motion, standing up and stretching his arms above his head accusing his elbow to pop in a less then pleasant way. Sherlock was in the mid stages of manhood, having lost the thin layer of baby fat he’d had as a child and within the mid stages of a growth spurt. His body was long, seeming out of proportion at times with the awkward postural body language all teenage boys (apart from Mycroft) seemed to develop at this age. And yet something about him was still attractive. To those who didn’t know of his horrible temperament they often tried to court him, only to hit full force with a back handed comment and be left more often than not on the verge of punching the lanky brat in the face.  
 **“Anything else Mycroft? Or can I go now”**  
Sherlock let his arms fall back down by his side, shifting his weight to one foot and looking down his nose at his brother with one brow ever so slightly raised in annoyance. He had better things to do then fret over some missing pills.

Of course, an experiment. Mycroft should have known it, yet the slight worry about the missing pills had made him do a mistake. Of a grave kind, even, and he mentally scolded himself for this. Father would have been rather disappointed with his eldest son, but the man was dead and had always hated Mycroft, without needing a reason which only would have added fire to the fuel. Still, with the knowledge that he once again would have to ask the maid for help since he refused to order them on his own, he felt annoyed by Sherlock’s childish behaviour, making him glare at his brother for a moment or two with a blank expression. But then, being an eccedentesiast, he faked a smile, lips going thin in an expression his mother had scolded him for - _“An Omega always has to be beautiful, Mycroft, gracile, the perfect example of beauty and art”_ , she would say.  
 **“Yes, that is all, Sherlock.”**  
Mycroft turned without another word, going to the servant’s corridor and searching for the maid. Much to his distress, she informed him about a stoppage, making it impossible to order suppressants for the next few weeks. Splendid, he thought with irony rushing through his body like venom, triggering Mycroft to feel slight panic.  
The last time he had allowed the heat to mess with his mind and body control had been years ago, as it first had taken place at the beginning of his adolescence. It had been unclear back then if he was a Beta or not, yet now that it was clear, he found himself wishing for the other option. Unfortunately, that was impossible, and he was forced to take pills every second day, control his blood circulation, temperature and pulse every day, and to go to a special doctor at least once a month.  
He couldn’t even remember his circle anymore. He had no idea when the heat would hit him, had no clue and that was what disturbed the Quidnunc. To not know when it would hit him. Due to the suppressants, it couldn’t be within the next week, perhaps in two or three. Maybe, hopefully, until then, the stoppage would be over and he could take them again.  
Mycroft returned to his room, took out his studies and decided to read - ignoring the matter was childish and petulant, but the best solution.

Once sure that his brother had gone to the east wing of manor Sherlock returned to his own room. Once inside he turned, locked the door, and went to his wardrobe where he pulled out a small miniature refrigeration unit, hooked up to the electrical supply by a small hole in the back through the mahogany wood. The inside was filled with an array of ‘specimens’, ranging from samples of his own blood. The corpses of several small animals. And also an array of human tissue. He pushed a majority of these things aside before removing a small white kitchen container and going to his desk.  
Within the container lay the remains of Mycroft’s pills, each one individually encased in a thin layer of metallic covering with the instructions printed on the back. Sherlock brought the packet up to the light, turning it on its side before pressing down on one of the outward pointing indentations and popping the pill from the container, letting it rest on his hand.  
A small thing, only half a centimetre wide. White in colouring with a slick sugar coating to make swallowing easier. They could be taken as shots, though these were more expensive and had to be administered at a doctor’s surgery or a hospital, something his brother was reluctant to do in fear of being found out by their peers.  
He had lied to Mycroft, in a sense at least. His pills were gone due to an experiment, just not the one Sherlock had informed him of. In fact, Mycroft was an unwitting subject within the real experiment, not that Sherlock intended to ask for his consent. Oh no. He doubt that his brother would agree to help his research.  
Sherlock had presented as an Alpha two years ago. At the time it had been a stressful situation, but with Mycroft being on suppressants and the rest of the population of his school being made of other Alpha’s or Beta’s it had never been a problem. He scented Omega’s in passing in the street but none nearing heat. Though this was a coincidence, Sherlock instead believed that he wasn’t affected by Omega’s due to superior body control. How wrong the boy was. This current experiment was designed to see how long it would take an omega to succumb to heat once being taken off suppressants in a ‘cold turkey’ styled method, and to investigate the effects of said withdrawal. He had known about the shortage and had timed his experiment well. All he had to do now was wait and observe the effects in the name of science.  
Sherlock placed the pills back in the container and then in turn hid it back within the wardrobe, placing everything back in order before readying himself for bed. He had to be well rested for the morning, wanting to make sure he fully recorded any changed in his brothers demeanour, without letting Myrcoft catch onto exactly what he was doing.  
He doubt his brother would take kindly to the truth after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter. Where the ‘E’ rating comes into play. Sherlock may seem rather OCC in this stage but keep in mind he’s off his head with lust and hormones and emotions he’s never felt before. A horny teenager.

In the first few days, nothing out of order happened. The only thing making Mycroft feel slightly suspicious was the fact that Sherlock was around him more often than the occasional encounter in the corridors when Mycroft returned from the library or his walk, no, Sherlock even sat in the same room like Mycroft without making a fuss or any snarky comments without having a reason to - something which had never bothered the younger, Mycroft assumed, and it was incredibly disturbing and tedious. Especially since Sherlock knew which points of Mycroft to attack, where the holes in his armour were. Comments about Mycroft’s weight, which actually has never been an issue but due to his special diet - made for Omegas - Sherlock entertained himself with the insults, or how similar he was to father in his appearance - which hurt Mycroft more than he would ever admit.  
His sleeping pattern changed. He would wake up in the middle of the night, feeling too warm to stay underneath the blankets or in bed at all. At those times, the Omega would go to the kitchen and drink some water, or control his body temperature only to notice that it was increasing on a daily basis by at least a half degree. It were clear symptoms, and added to the way his heartbeat got slightly faster, amongst his body pressure and pulse, and how his scent got stronger, more noticeable in the room and too strong for him to cover it with perfume and cologne, it was obvious that he was going into the pre-heat condition.  
Mother noticed, of course. She didn’t show it, but Mycroft was highly aware of the fact that she was pleased. Mycroft somehow didn’t doubt that she already was looking for suitable Alphas to impregnate Mycroft, or to least mate and knot him, but the young man would not let that happen. He spent more time in his room, chose lighter clothing instead of his suits to not get too warm in short time. He stopped going out on his walks, simply because he didn’t feel safe outside as an unbounded Omega close to heat. By the pace his body started to show more and more symptoms, he assumed his heat would happen within a few days.  
Precautions had to be made. He let a maid buy some toys, air-filled knots and other things to sate him and the animalistic need to be taken and fucked for three days. Going of the suppressants this rapidly, Mycroft even dared to assume that it would be longer. Four, five days at least. It would be incredibly tedious, annoying and embarrassing. He could already imagine Sherlock’s comments.  
Mycroft started to sleep naked, simply because the feeling of clothes hurt and made him feel uncomfortable on his strangely more sensitive skin. He changed his blankets into black, silk ones, and even sleeping on them without covering himself after locking the door and windows in the night.

The level of data Sherlock had gathered over such as short space of time was astounding. As well as observations and behavioural pattern changes he’d taken samples of Mycroft’s saliva (gathered from used glasses), he had noted down the apparent temperature change in his brother. He hadn’t been able to get an accurate reading, though he’d brushed past Mycroft’s hand with his own when the two of them had been eating, reaching for the same cutlery. From that minimal level of contact Sherlock could confirm it had risen over the few days since the pills had been removed from his system. A thermometer would be needed o confirm this but sadly he had yet to come up with a way to get such a reading without his actions becoming apparent. He knew Mycroft was wearing of the extra time he’d been spending around him but from what he could tell he had yet to fully catch on. Regardless even if he did it wouldn’t matter. Sherlock had read up on the signs of Omega’s heat’s and from what he had learned even if they were to give Mycroft and elevated dose of his suppressants he was too far into his heat cycle to stop it from happening.   
Sherlock was so focused on Mycroft’s actions that he seemed to be unable to notice the changes in his own behaviour. Though he convinced himself he was spending more time with his brother to observe him, sometimes he would sit in the same room as Mycroft and simply breath in his brothers scent, making no observations, committing nothing of use to memory. Other times he would find himself just staring at his sibling, or venturing into rooms Mycroft had recently visited and spending his time in there, conducting his work with the scent of his brother around him.   
He had also masturbated.   
Something he did very little of, only doing it often enough to ensure his body would no succumb to night ejaculations, not wanting to have to deal with the unwanted mess.   
He now often found himself waking in the morning with morning wood and having to relive himself in his bedroom before continuing on his day. He was going through puberty, and as an Alpha he was prone to a higher sex drive, which was why he had yet to question the changes. Though with each passing day he started to feel more and more...well...not himself.   
**“You smell like a hussy”**  
Sherlock was sat in the living room, a few seats down from Mycroft. He’d been trying to read and failing for the last twenty minutes, his brain feeling foggy with the thick scent of Mycroft hanging heavy in the air. Sherlock’s own breathing had quickened, his body feeling itchy and needy and all manner of feelings that were so often foreign to him. He was still assured of his own control though so had refused the subtle prompting of his mother that maybe Sherlock should take a few days away from the manor, visit some friends (Which he didn’t have) go and see some buildings out in the country (which he had all ready visited and had no interest in returning to).   
No. He was not bound by instincts. His transport did not affect his mind. Just because his body was reacting to the omega stimulus around him did not mean that Sherlock would turn into some raging hormone fuelled beast. He was better than that, so much better.  
 **“And you look like you’ve put on weight. I heard omega’s going into heat tend to get cravings like pregnant woman, is it true? You know Mycroft, gorging yourself on chocolate is a very unbefitting past time for someone of your high calibre, don’t you think?”**

 _ **“Language, Sherlock”**_ , was everything Mycroft said, not looking at Sherlock from the couch he was laying on - legs crossed, arms under his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling right above him. Sherlock’s words hardly were worth any anger, and definitely not enough to make Mycroft snap. He had experience with this particular behaviour of his brother and had long ago stopped caring about them at all. Of course the comment about his weight was annoying him, but it wasn’t his fault and he would eat less as soon as this was over.  
He pulled on his shirt a bit, feeling almost naked in the T-Shirt - he had tried wearing a turtleneck, but the fabric caused him to scratch on it because it was itching - and light trousers, almost comparable to pajama-ones. Mother was forcing him to eat, gave him more as if she knew that he became hungry more often. Mycroft had indeed put on weight, but only a bit. Not enough to make him worry about his weight again, and stop eating like he had years ago until mother had forced him into hospital out of a massive lack of nutrients. Definitely not enough, he told himself, taking a few deep breaths as breathing became harder again.  
Sherlock’s closeness was affecting him in a way it definitely shouldn’t. His body was limited on easy functions: Breathing, walking, indulging into needs like going on the loo or eating, sleeping, and the desire to be pinned down on a mattress or pressed against a wall with a thick knot inside him stretching him far too strongly. Sherlock’s presence, he had noticed, made the last symptom even worse. Having a potential Alpha close by definitely didn’t help. Not at all.  
Standing up, Mycroft walked over to the table, taking the glass of cool water mother had let a maid bring in a few minutes ago. She had wanted him to stay in his room, but Mycroft had refused, not having wanted to let Sherlock think he was too weak for this. Mycroft downed the glass within a few seconds, licking a few drops off his lips and closing his eyes, wiping sweat off his forehead.  
It got worse. He woke up last night, body covered in sweat, liquid dropping out of his entrance on the sheets, lubrication liquid like he had realised seconds after his awakening. A clear indicator that it would happen any day, tomorrow, the day after. Not more than three days, maximally.  
And indeed. The next day, Mycroft was in the first wave of his heat, heavy scent filling his room and creeping out on the corridor in front of it through the gap between door and floor. He woke up with a quiet moan, eyes snapping open and body shivering. He was far too warm, it felt so wrong, and the craving was almost unbearable. Only with the last amount of self-control left inside him, he managed to go to his door, lock it and throw the key away without looking where it landed.  
Putting a towel on the bed and laying down on it, he stared at the ceiling, not being able to stop his breath from becoming faster, pupils dilating in need and arousal, penis going stiff and erect. The thought of having to masturbate for three or more days was disgusting and that probably was the only reason Mycroft didn’t start doing it. Because it was disgusting him, this need, and because it was embarrassing to know that every member of the house was aware of what he would do. He could already imagine Sherlock on his way to his own room, passing Mycroft’s and smelling the pheromons. How amused his brother would be.

 _If_ he had been a Beta, or an Omega, or even an unpresented, Sherlock would indeed have been finding this whole ordeal very amusing. The very idea of Mycroft, strong respectable Mycroft, being reduced to such a state would have had him in fits.  
But Sherlock was neither of those things.   
He wasn’t an Beta, or an Omega, or an unpresented.   
And he certainly wasn’t laughing.   
Instead he was on the verge of a breakdown.   
It seemed he had vastly overestimated his own level of self control. Upon waking the thick heady scent of an omega in heat had filled his mind with urges he’d never even contemplated before. It didn’t matter that Mycroft was his brother. He was an omega. A creature screaming out to be fucked. To have his tight hole fucked into submission.   
Of course Sherlock had researched Omega anatomy and the breading practice between Alpha’s and their mates. He knew how this was supposed to go. How Mycroft’s anatomy would shift, opening up a second entrance within his body, the mucus membrane seeping away to create a thick oily substance to ease the passage to accommodate the event. How even after their first coupling Mycroft would not be sated, that he would need to be mounted in regular hourly intervals over the following days. And how he would need to be knotted. That even though some omega’s chose to wade out their heats my themselves with the use of toys, unless they were truly knotted they would be left feeling unsatisfied.   
The very idea of Mycroft pleasuring himself with some silicone toy made Sherlock’s lip curl back into a snarl and his cock throb. He was to far gone to reolise what eh was doing but the next thing he knew he was throwing his weight against Mycrofts door, banging his open palm against the wood demanding to be let in.   
**“Open the door Mycroft!”**  
His voice echoed out along the hall, heedless of the maids within the house, not caring who heard. He just wanted Mycroft. He was the only thing on Sherlock’s mind.   
**“Open the door! I can smell you, you’re wet. You need me, you need me to knot you, to fill you and fuck you”**  
the lewd words fell from his lips without thinking, grinding his palm down over his crotch, pyjama pants tented and moist where his cock was leaking out precome, eager to mount his sibling.   
**“Please, Mycroft, just open the door! Let me in!”**  
Begging.   
He was begging for it.   
He felt as if he didn’t get his hands on Mycroft soon his whole world would implode, that nothing mattered apart from touching the other, feeling his body wrapped tight around his cock.   
**“M-Mycroft, _please_ ”**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, please keep in mind that both brothers are currently heavily under the influence of attitude altering hormone induced levels of crazy. So I think that explains the high level of OCC comments and actions.   
> Now shhh and enjoy the porn.

The moment someone threw himself against Mycroft’s door, the sound so loud in his ears that he let the toy he had grasped fall down, the sound nothing compared to the screaming of his brother he heard, muted by the begging and demanding. The Omega had not once expected Sherlock to react like that. In his mind, Sherlock was one of the few Alphas and Betas in the world having no desire to mate or have sex, but obviously, he had been wrong. Sherlock’s screaming was loud enough to make Mycroft blink a few times, sit up from his bed and look at the door with a puzzled expression.  
Sherlock was begging. Would he usually note this date down and try to record the precious sound of his brother, always so arrogant and self-confident, begging for entrance, he right now could only stare at the wood, anus throbbing and lubrication liquid smearing on the towel and the cheeks of his arse as he shifted from one side to the other, trying to think. Which was close to impossible in this state of mind, because oh god, Sherlock was there, willing, and Mycroft could smell that he had a leaking erection even from here. His first instinct was to obey, to let the Alpha in, take him, pin him down on the mattress and fuck him for the next days on, and before he knew what he was doing, he moved off the bed, towards the key laying there, shining in the light the lamp was illuminating the room with.  
But just as his fingers touched the metal, cold to his heated skin, Mycroft stopped. This wasn’t Sherlock speaking, this was the animal brain influenced by the pheromons of an Omega in heat in the air. Mycroft shouldn’t. He definitely shouldn’t, but he feared that Sherlock would find a way to get inside anyway - even if the younger would have to climb in through the window or break down the door. By the aching groaning coming from the wood, Mycroft didn’t even doubt that it was possible.  
His body moved without his mind’s permission, hands shaking as he tried to put the key into the lock, fumbling with it and nearly letting it drop once or twice. Sherlock’s scent was intoxicating, making Mycroft feel something wet run down his inner tights, body shaking with need. The part of his brain wanting to get away before both could do something they would regret later, something terrible, was muted by pure, dark desire rushing through Mycroft’s body, down to his lower belly, over to his crotch.  
He managed to get the key into the hole, taking deep breaths as he thought for the last time about stepping away and refusing. Of course he knew that he wouldn’t. Because Omegas obeyed to Alphas, either when they were bonded, married or when the Omega was too far gone to fight off the natural instinct of submission. The clicking noise of the key being turned was almost too loud in Mycroft’s ears, everything he heard was the banging on the door, his own heartbeat and the key.  
Mycroft stepped back, not wanting to open the door himself in case something, anything inside Sherlock would realise how wrong this was. Resisting the urge to get down on his knees and whimper, he only did the latter, hardly being able to form a coherent thought anymore. He needed to be fucked. Taken, claimed, mated, knotted. Until he would be sated, until this terrible feeling of being wet and hot and needy would fade.

At the sound of the tumbler in the lock clicking open Sherlock felt his breath catch in his throat. He was pressed against the wood, but for a few short silent seconds he didn’t move, every muscle seeming frozen in place. He soon snapped out of his trance and grabbed the handle, tearing it back and rushing into the room in a flurry of movement, all sentiment of grace gone from the boys actions as he simply threw himself at his kin.   
He pressed his face to Mycrofts neck, breathing in his scent and trailing his tongue over the flushed flesh. It was as if he didn’t know where to start, his hands raking down Mycroft’s front before going between the males thighs, feeling the liquid dripping down the pale flesh. Sherlock brought his fingers to his mouth and sniffed at them before lapping the liquid from the digits, reaching behind Mycroft and unbashfully pressing a few fingers into his tight heat.   
Sherlock’s movements were uncoordinated but no one could say he wasn’t eager. He knew where to touch to bring Mycroft pleasure, though he still had no experience with anything of this nature, and because of this he had the air of a child in a candy store, simply grasping at everything without the finer points of love making.   
**“F-fuck, you sme-. Smell so good”**  
For once Sherlock seemed unable to form a sentence. Words tumbling over one and other, littering out an array of unintelligible babble.   
As he spoke and touched and grasped at Mycroft he was also slowly pushing him back towards the bed until Mycroft’s legs touched the side, Sherlock taking it upon himself to press him back sharply, pinning him down to the soft sheets currently stained with Mycrofts heat.   
Mycroft was taller than him, but not by a lot. Soon Sherlock would be the same height, and within a few years he would be taller, but for now he was still a few inches below Mycrofts own height, the difference causing Sherlock to crane Mycrofts head down at an awkward angle so he could lap at the tender flesh below his brothers ear, teeth scraping over the quickened pulse which his greedy fingers once more pressed inside that eager heat, thrusting in deep.

Oh god… Mycroft didn’t know what was happening, but whatever it was, it felt so incredibly good. In the moments nothing had happened, no movement opening the door and no Sherlock coming in, Mycroft had started to feel worry, had feared that what he had hoped had come true. But no, Sherlock was here, and while his movements seemed to unsure and almost clumsy in comparison to his usual, Mycroft found himself moaning embarrassingly loudly.  
He titled his head to the side as Sherlock inhaled his scent, body sending out more of the pheromones to wrap themselves around Sherlock’s mind, embracing him and dragging him down further, until he would finally give Mycroft what he so desperately wanted and needed. Why had Mycroft never allowed himself to have that? Why had he insisted on taking suppressants when this was what he got as a result of not taking them?  
He moaned again as he felt Sherlock’s finger push inside him, inner muscles and walls immediately clenching around the invader to keep him inside. Mycroft arched his back, eyes fluttering and breath coming out somewhat irregularly as he struggled to moan and breathe at the same time. Every touch, as uncoordinated as they may have been, sent sparkles of pleasure through the Omega, his legs going weak and body trembling in desire.  
Sherlock’s words only sounded like noises without any sense to Mycroft, a deep rumbling of the sixteen-year olds voice, deep, a vibration but nothing more. Mycroft made no protest as he was slowly pushed towards the bed, too far gone to realise anything around him except Sherlock and his touches and his hands and god, this was almost too much.  
Mycroft closed his eyes as he lay on the bed, the towel slipping down on the ground next to them, the feeling of Sherlock’s clothes on his skin disturbing and making him whimper. He was limited to the basic, animalistic noises, moaning, whimpering, even sighing in pleasure as he felt Sherlock’s fingers inside him again. Pushing himself down, Sherlock’s long, thin fingers almost reaching the opened and swollen opening to Mycroft’s womb, the elder gave a chocked, sob-like sound of pure bliss, spreading his legs as far as possible.

Sherlock felt the inflamed skin beneath his finger tips and soon found that tender secondary opening that was usually blocked off from the rest of his tract. His fingers brushed the edges before plunging in, forcing his fingers in as deeply as they could go without a) breaking his own hand or b) causing unnecessary damage to Mycroft. Omega’s were built sturdy, their bodies designed to take the relentless pounding of an Alpha in heat. But still. Accidents could happen. Sherlock regrettably had to pull his fingers free though not without rasping his tongue between them, licking up the taste as if it were his very life essence.   
His own clothes felt near painful now, thin cotton pants rubbing against his erection making him hiss in pain. He swiftly kicked them off, casting them to the side and onto the floor where they landed in a bundled heap. The second his cock was free he wrapped both hands around the throbbing flesh and started to thrust up into the makeshift shaft. Like all Alpha’s he was larger than the normal population. Even at this age he was bigger than most adult Beta’s, and once puberty was finished he would be even larger.   
Sherlock had never cared about such things as size. Before now his penis had just been a part of his body, nothing more and nothing less. But now. Well. Now it was so much more. It was the thing he would use to drive his brother over the edge.   
**“Get on all fours, spread your legs”** his voice was still catching in his throat and had that underlying tone of almost childish delight, but it had also taken on an edge of dominance. He wasn’t requesting Mycroft to do so. He was demanding. And god forbid Mycroft deny him what he wanted.

Having Sherlock so deeply inside him, to feel his younger brother’s fingers move and go deeper was such an odd feeling, still far away from being pleasant and arousing like the thrust itself, but it was enough to make Mycroft spread his legs wider, shifting until Sherlock’s fingers were inside him to the knuckles. A long whine left Mycroft’s mouth as his brother drew away, the inner walls throbbing and clenching around a missing cock inside him. It almost hurt.  
Sherlock stroking himself was probably the most arousing thing Mycroft had ever seen in his whole life. Even though Sherlock was younger by two years, he was probably twice or even thrice as big as Mycroft, whose penis had the average Omega size and nothing more. To even think about how it would grow and become bigger, _thicker…_  
Wetting his lips, he could feel how some precum dropped on his stomach, lubrication liquid smeared on the sheets underneath the two. Somewhere inside his mind, Mycroft thought about locking the door again, but the moment Sherlock’s voice broke through the haze his mind was in, he forgot about this immediately again.  
Eagerly, and as quickly as possible, Mycroft got on his fours, lowering his shoulders down on the mattress until his arse was high up in the air, presented to the Alpha with liquid almost constantly running down his inner tights and legs. As he had found a position in which he was steady, Mycroft spread his legs as far as possible, feeling how his cheeks parted and how his entrance became visible. Normally Mycroft would hate being in a position like this, but right now, he wanted nothing more but to feel Sherlock fuck him senseless.

Yet again this was something that Sherlock should find funny. Mycroft bent over in such a compromising position, making him look so weak and pathetic. And yes all he could think of was how much he wanted to be buried into the hilt within that slick hole. The very idea that this could be anything other than insanely erotic struggled to compute in Sherlock’s heat addled mind, Mycroft was perfect. He was everything.   
Sherlock crawled up further onto the bed behind his sibling and reached out to hold Onto Mycroft’s hips, pulling him back a fraction and seeing how stable the position was. Even in this state Sherlock still had some control, some sense of intelligence about him. It wouldn’t do to start trying to copulate with Mycroft only to find them both on the floor now would it? No. This needed to be perfect. Or as perfect as a hormone induced fuck frenzy could be.  
Flesh met flesh as Sherlock lined himself up, dragging the tip of his cock between Mycrofts cheeks, letting it slip into that weeping hole a few times, just catching in the inflamed outer edges before pulling away. He could only tease him for so long before it got too much for Sherlock and he ended up giving in, thrusting quickly into Mycroft’s body and seating himself within that warm wet embrace.   
It was perfection.   
Sherlock’s mouth parted in a silent scream and his grip tightened around Mycroft’s hips. Without thinking he doubled over and bit down on Mycroft’s shoulder, leaving behind a few pinpricks of blood which he hastily licked away in a soothing gesture.   
The desire to mark him was almost as strong as the overwhelming desire to fuck Mycroft. He wanted everyone to know that his brother had been mated. That he had been knotted and marked. The very idea of anyone else even attempting to touch-. No. He couldn’t even think about it. If anyone but him ever tried to do this to his brother...Sherlock would stop them. By any means necessary.

This bloody tease. Mycroft whimpered, no coherent sounds leaving his mouth, instincts and body limited to the most animalistic and basic function. Giving a moan as he felt Sherlock’s cock push inside him, only the head and not going further than the edges of his entrance, Mycroft fought against the urge to push himself down, body needing to have Sherlock inside him, to knot and fill him with his seed. The thought that something could happen, a pregnancy or something else, didn’t even occur him.  
His eyes cracked open with a snap, both pain and pleasure rushing through him, straight down to his throbbing cock, precum dropping down on the black sheets and leaving white spots on the fabric. Being a virgin, his hole hardly could contain Sherlock, wasn’t stretched enough and not yet able to adapt to an Alpha’s cock properly. He could feel the heated flesh slip down inside him, felt how his inner walls and muscles clenched around it in a welcoming embrace.  
So good. So incredibly good, it nearly drove him crazy with lust and desire which clouded his mind in a haze. He had never known how pleasant it felt, being filled and stretched, knowing that the knot would stretch him even wider. The thought alone made Mycroft whimper into his arm, own teeth sinking down into the skin to mute the sounds he was making.  
Only for a moment or two, the thought of what Sherlock just had done crossed his mind, part of him still conscious enough to understand that Sherlock just had marked and probably bonded him. Mycroft moaned, arching his back more, wanting to be fucked so badly.   
**_“S-Sherl…ock..”_** , he breathed out, whimpering and whining. He squirmed underneath the other, not aware of what Sherlock’s animal brain would probably think - that his fuck toy was trying to get away, or that he wasn’t enjoying it. Hell, Mycroft was. He couldn’t wait to finally be fucked, for the first time in his life.

The switch clicked over in Sherlock’s brain the moment Mycroft started to struggle. His teeth bore down onto the back of the elder’s neck and with his full weight he pinned him down, not about to let Mycroft leave.   
In a sense it was rape, well, to the extent you could rape the willing. Sherlock wouldn’t allow his brother to pull away in the midst of this. Time was crucial and Mycroft was wasting it with these little dramatic. Or at least that was what Sherlock thought, unable to see that his brother was damn near gagging for it, instead of trying to flee.   
Once again he licked over the wound he’d made, soothing the second bite mark with his tongue in slow lingered licked. Only once the blood stopped flowing did he deem it fixed, moving back and positioning himself in a better pose, able to keep his balance with more ease this way.   
He gave Mycroft no warning before he started to thrust, brain switching onto automatic mode as he slammed his hips against Mycroft’s own, driving his cock deep into the clenching walls of the omega.   
It was beautiful in a way.   
Sherlock could see how some poets could write pages of adoration for such an action. As fiery and fierce as the mating process was it did have a somewhat deeper meaning, something less violent and more serene.   
He soon tired of the poetic contemplation and quickly focused his mind back on the task at hand, shifting his weight once more to get a better angle, pulling Mycrofts body back to meet his thrusts as he rutted him like an animal, lips parted in a fixed look of single minded determination.

From the moment on Sherlock pinned him down, teeth breaking the skin of Mycroft’s skin easily, his mind simply shut down. It was a state of pure arousal, instinctual reactions and chemicals rushing through him instead of controlled motions. Mycroft finally understood why some Omegas described this state like being an animal without any brain, like a puppet or slave of the Alpha.  
Being fucked this roughly was probably the most wonderful feeling in the world.  
Right now, no one could convince Mycroft of something else. Feeling the thin and yet strong body of his brother pressed against him, the movements of the younger’s hips and of his cock inside him, he was convinced of the fact that he would never take suppressants again. Not if going into heat meant being fucked this deliciously, to be fucked and mated and knotted roughly. His body could easily take it, was made and had been created to take the hard thrusting of an Alpha’s cock, was made to take cock and cock only.  
His body was trembling with desire, sweat running over his forehead, mouth parted as moans and whimpers left it in an irregular rhythm. The bed gave sounds of protest at this roughness, the headrest banging against the wall and floor making groan-like noises. Mycroft couldn’t care less about the fact that his pre-cum soaked the sheets underneath him, that his arse would be sore and hurt pleasantly.  
He couldn’t care less about the fact that his brother was fucking him, and that he had marked him. No, Mycroft couldn’t find it in him. His eyes were fluttering, tremors rushing through him and making his arms weaken, but he held himself up, let Sherlock fuck him like an animal. Mycroft had always liked to think of himself as much better than Sherlock, as more controlling. Right now, he would probably do everything Sherlock would want him to. If that was because of the bond Sherlock probably had created unconsciously, a bond close to a master-slave one, or because of his mind being forced into submission… he had no idea. Didn’t care, honestly.

Downstairs their mother had easily caught on to what was happening. She had warned both boys, advising them both to leave the home to be away from one and other at this time, yet both had ignored her warnings and now this had come to pass. She couldn’t say she was surprised. While in regular society incest was looked down upon it was met with less judgment in the cases of brothers and sisters being Omega’s and Alpha’s. The fact they already shared a close bond, coupled with their instincts made it very hard for them to resist one and other should one go into heat while their sibling was close by. Because of this it was not prosecuted by law. It was not widely accepted either, but at the same time no one often outwardly complained. People tended to just pass a blind eye and ignore the situation, letting it go on behind closed doors away from the public eye.   
Their mother sighed softly and stood, finding the maid and asking her to ensure that food was left outside the room along with a pile of fresh clothes and bottled water at regular intervals. She had no doubt that neither would leave the room for any length of time, but she wanted to ensure her boys did not go hungry.   
She knew the two would punish themselves enough after the heat had passed, so for now she allowed them to continue unhindered.

Sherlock wrapped his hands around one of Mycrofts legs and yanked it back quickly, flipping Mycroft over onto his back and keeping the ice man’s legs wrapped around Sherlock’s thin waist. His ribs were visible as his breathing heaved, but with the thin sheen of sweat on his chest, and the way his hair was all manner of fly away and dishevelled he looked manlier than usual, adapting some sort of rouge wild edge about him.  
A look which just screamed ‘obey’.  
With one hand he reached and took the toy Mycroft had been using, turning it over in his hand before he snarled and threw it against the wall, hearing it thud against the expensive imported carpet Mycroft had handpicked for his room on his 16th birthday.   
“You were using that? You thought that could satisfy you?” It was a question but clearly Sherlock only wanted one answer. As if to prove a point he gripped Mycroft’s thighs, digging in his neat crescent moon nails, and spread him wide while thrusting in deep and seating himself there, rotating his hips to allow Mycroft to feel him deep within his body.   
**“Pathetic. S-simply pathetic. You need me, and only me. Nothing and no one else. You understand Mycroft?”**  
As he spoke the membrane of skin by the base of his cock had started to fill, dragging against Mycroft’s tender rim with each thrust, the knot starting to inflate and catch on the edge of the muscle making it harder to keep up a rhythm.   
**“I said do you understand?”**

Mycroft moaned, somehow managing to get more comfortable in this position. He could feel bruises built on his hips where Sherlock gripped his bones, nails digging into the skin and leaving scratching marks all over Mycroft’s body, feel how he was stretched more widely now that his legs were further apart. He lay his head back, breathing in heavily through his mouth, feeling that he was short on air due to the moans and whimpers he made.  
Sherlock’s appearance, the wild look he gave the elder through his lust-blown, dark eyes made something inside Mycroft click, like a switch had been pulled over. Obey. Obey, follow, please. He stared up at Sherlock, lips swollen because of his biting into them, the attempts to keep himself from screaming out loudly. It was enough to know that everyone in the whole estate was aware of what they were doing, he didn’t want to entertain them with the noises he made.  
The only thought rushing through his mind right now was to obey. Perhaps he would be horrified about it later, or shocked, disgusted, whatever, but right now, there was nothing inside him fighting against the natural instinct to curl up on Sherlock’s side or feet, be his Omega and follow his every command.  
Sherlock had bonded them, he realised, Sherlock had created a bond and there was no way out of it.  
 **“Yes”** , he moaned, closing his eyes and rocking along, precum smearing over his stomach and leaving it wet, shining because of the lamp above them,   
**“Yes. Need you. Please..”** It was pathetic. It was so stupidly embarrassing, but right now Mycroft would say yes to everything Sherlock might say. He would agree to everything, no matter what, just to get Sherlock bond inside him.  
A particularly strong and hard thrust managed to directly hit his prostate, tip of Sherlock’s cock slipping through his second entrance, teasing the swollen flesh and sending a wave of pure pleasure through Mycroft. He came with a loud scream, whimpering as cum spilled on his stomach, his inner walls clutching around Sherlock until the younger couldn’t move. Putting pressure on him so he would cum inside Mycroft, knot.

At the back of his mind Sherlock knew this was where he should stop. That should he come within his brother their fate would be sealed, that the bond he had formed would be set in stone. A flicker of doubt passed over his face for a split second but within the same breath it was gone, his hips locking forwards and his knot inflating, fixing him inside Mycroft as he came with a drawn out moan.   
The knotting process would take minutes, and within that time he would fill his brother with his seed, pump him full of the thick heady fluid deep into Mycrofts wound. Luckily pills had been developed to prevent childbirth after heat. While the idea of being bonded to Mycroft was something Sherlock could learn to deal with in time, the aspect of a child was something he could not. At least not yet. Having children this young was normal for many, but not for someone like Sherlock, one who placed his own pleasure above others. He would not like his life style eh shifted by some little parasite, not until he was good and ready.   
This if course was what he would be thinking after the heat. Right now he wanted nothing more than to fill up Mycroft’s wound and ensure he carried his children. He wanted him pumped fill to the brim and make him bare his offspring, to have his belly swollen and his body pumping out those wonderful pregnant omega pheromones Sherlock had scented in passing from others in the street from time to time.   
His cock throbbed and spurted again inside him, sending out another load into Mycroft’s already cum soaked insides, the knot preventing any from seeping free. This continued for minutes after, Sherlock’s body shaking lightly each time he came, until slowly the Knot started to deflate and he could pull free. In doing so some cum seeped free down to Mycroft’s already soaked thighs but Sherlock just used the bed sheets to haphazardly rub it away. He sprawled himself close to Mycroft, spooning him from the side with one hand cupped against Mycroft’s stomach and lower abdomen, rubbing the lightly swollen area with the palm of his hands with his fingertips brushed against his brothers much smaller cock in a possessive manner.  
There wasn’t an alpha in a five mile radius of their home yet Sherlock was still on edge, ready to kill anyone who dared try and take Mycroft from him. Alpha’s were insanely protective of their mates during heat, ready to try and slaughter any other alpha’s who dared try and get close to their Omega’s in such a weakened state.   
**“Mine. Only mine”**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please ignore the randomly bolded sentences in this chapter. For some reason the formatting messed up and no matter how many times I try and edit them out they just revert back to being bold.

Each time new semen was shot into his inside, filling Mycroft until he felt so incredibly filled and sated, he shivered, eyes rolling back into his head slightly and mouth parted in pure bliss. He hoped that mother had bought pills, because Mycroft would need them. Getting pregnant was the cause and reason of the heat, the main point, but Mycroft couldn’t completely adapt to the fact that he would give birth to twins or more children one day. It just felt surreal, and was against his plans of reaching a high position in the government. No, he was sure that Sherlock wouldn’t want children either - Mycroft even dared to be certain that Sherlock wouldn’t want the bond itself.  
But it was too late for that, now that Sherlock’s semen was inside him, ran down his legs and made him feel sticky.  
Mycroft had to gasp as Sherlock pulled out, arse pulsating and throbbing in a pleasant soreness, pain not yet palpable. It would be impossible for him to move for a day after the heat, he was aware of that, and in that time he had to take the pills or otherwise his womb soon would be filled with Sherlock’s children. Not that the thought itself wasn’t pleasant, because in his heat-influenced mind it was, but it was the heat speaking and not Mycroft.  
He curled up a bit, until his knees were brushing Sherlock’s hand, only lowering themselves again to give the Alpha all the access he wanted. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that someone had passed his room minutes ago, the scent of a Beta almost completely swallowed by the combined smell of Mycroft’s heat and Sherlock’s pheromones. Probably a maid, Mycroft thought lazily, who brought food or pills, Mycroft hardly cared enough to make deductions.  
His eyes fell closed, body shifting closer against Sherlock’s until he could feel the other’s chest pressed against his back. Unconsciously, he tangled their legs together, somehow managing to get Sherlock’s left leg between his own too, trying to connect every inch of their bodies together until no gap was between them. It worked, and Mycroft hummed in approval, giving a light, cat-like noise of pleasure. Even though Sherlock was smaller, yet, he felt protected in the other’s arms, like no one could touch or hurt him. Instincts, he blamed them, because usually Mycroft wouldn’t even think about not being safe.  
 **“Yours”** , he agreed quietly, sighing at the contact Sherlock’s fingers had with his penis, sticky cum already having dried on Mycroft’s stomach.

Sherlock fell into a bout of dreamless sleep, body resting and restoring the energy he’d lost between the mating process. When he awoke he was already hard and wasted no time upon sliding his cock back inside Mycroft’s stretched hole, quickly feeling the heat engulf him as he started to thrust, waking his brother up with his actions.  
Not the most polite way to wake someone, but in this state Sherlock didn’t believe Mycroft would care to argue, in fact he was relatively sure this was how he’d want to be awaken, with Sherlock deep inside him.  
With each passing time the insistent urgency to mate became weaker, enabling Sherlock to eventually leave the bed and open the door, finding a bowl of fruit and several bottles of water laid out for them. He brought them into the bedroom, along with the clean change of towels, and sat upon the bed hastily devouring down an apple before plucking grapes from the stem to feed to Mycroft, now allowing the man to feed himself, only letting him eat the food Sherlock personally presented to him by hand.  
He didn’t talk much but his actions seemed softer. Usually by now he would have made a comment on his brothers weight but for now he was content on actively feeding Mycroft himself, letting him suckle strawberry juice from his fingers in between knotting him and cleaning the fruit and juices of their sex from his brothers body. 

**Those days - he had no idea how many had passed, with the curtains closed and no one daring to enter to tell them when the night ended and the day started - were passing both incredibly fast and painfully slow, a perfect harmony of waking up because of thrusting inside him, because of his cock getting hard and lubrication liquid slicking up Sherlock’s cock as he thrust inside Mycroft merciless, of eating and of laying there, either sleeping or simply enjoying the feeling of a body behind him and with him.  
** Each time Sherlock slipped out of him again, Mycroft felt his thoughts return, making it possible for him to entertain himself by making deductions about the state of his room. The urge to have someone inside him got weaker each time, until he felt that his heat nearly was over, maybe only a few more times more, four or five times. He would enjoy each, because no one could guarantee that Sherlock wouldn’t get away with panic or disgust.  
Mycroft had been sleeping again, only lightly to immediately wake up when the mating urge called again, as he felt his body reacting. Liquid, sticky and wet, running down his legs, heartbeat getting faster, pheromons filling the room once again. The air inside was so thick, so heavy with lust and the scent of sex, Mycroft could actually taste it on his tongue, inhaled anything but oxygen with each breath.  
Sherlock was eating right now, and offering Mycroft a strawberry without looking at him, so Mycroft took it in his own hand to make Sherlock come out of his mind palace and fuck his elder brother again. Moving closer, he opened his mouth, took the strawberry inside it but not drawing back again. He swallowed the fruit, before he began to suck on Sherlock’s fingers, licking over the tip, making dirty noises of pleasure while his arousal got stronger, until he was in heat once again, stronger now that it was close to the end. 

**Sherlock’s eyes fixed on the sight before him, feeling Mycroft’s skilled tongue sliding slick between the digits. There had been no time for other things of a sexual nature apart from the full out sex. Maybe another time, should there be one, Sherlock would allow Mycroft to put that tongue to use on more intimate parts of his body. But for now, well, now he had a job to do.  
** He pulled is hand free and grabbed Mycroft around the middle, leading him closer until Mycroft was sat atop Sherlock’s lap, hovering over the Alpha’s waiting cock. It didn’t take a genius to know what he wanted and with a small amount of promoting her got Mycroft down onto his lap. Sherlock buried deep within him.  
 **“S-show me what you want”**  
This was a different turn of events.  
Up until now Sherlock had done all the work, but this time he wanted Mycroft to work for his satisfaction. He wanted to watch Mycroft fuck himself, to use his cock for what he desired so dearly.  
 **“Show me how much you need me Mycroft, how much you need this”  
** At ‘this’ he gave one short sharp thrust upwards before seating, leaning back on his hands and leaving Mycroft to do the rest, watching him through half lidded eyes fogged over wit lust and desire.

Mycroft stared at Sherlock for a moment or two, trying to understand what he wanted. As he did, his pupils dilated rapidly, leaving the usual bright-grey almost completely black. Moaning at the thrust upward, he gripped Sherlock’s ipbones, for moments only enjoying the sight the both offered.  
As he looked down, he saw where Sherlock’s cock disappeared inside him, balls pressed against the cheeks of his arse, Mycroft’s own cock by now already pressed against his own stomach. A bit curiously, he rocked his hips forward, feeling how it moved Sherlock inside him. Mycroft gave a silent moan, closing his eyes.  
And then, he just let go of his control, moving forward and backwards.  
The noise of flesh slapping together filled the room, accompanied by Mycroft’s moaning. He closed his eyes, moving faster and faster, laying his head back into his neck as he fucked himself on Sherlock. Now and then, he lifted himself up, only to push down, feeling that Sherlock’s knot was forming slowly, stretching him wider. After days of being fucked, Mycroft was wide, able to take Sherlock’s cock easily without any problems. But the knot still was a bit too much, pleasingly so.  
Sherlock’s balls slapped hard against Mycroft, leaving a reddish shading of his flesh after a while, a while in which Mycroft had fucked himself on Sherlock’s cock without any mercy, hard and rough like he apparently liked. Mycroft came with a moan, spilling over his stomach, some dropping on Sherlock’s tights and stomach too.  
He kept on moving though, got even faster and harder, nails digging into Sherlock’s hips and leaving marks of fingers. He wanted to be fucked senseless, until he would loose consciousness from the feeling alone, from being so well-fucked.

Throughout this Sherlock lay back on the bed with his head propped up upon the pile of pillows the maid had laid out for them some hours ago. The sheets had yet to be changed though new covers had been haphazardly spread over to give them something somewhat clean to lay upon. When he felt Mycroft’s release splatter against his chest Sherlock scooped some up onto two fingers, stretching them apart causing the liquid to string between the digits, quickly pressing them to Mycroft’s lips making him lick them clean.  
It was a nice treat to observe his brother at work, admiring the way his muscles shifted with each powerful thrust, but soon Sherlock thought it best for him to take control once more, sharply pinning Mycroft back an seating himself between his legs, nearly doubling his ‘dear’ brother in half as he forced that knot passed Mycroft’s abused hole, settling in deep within him and like clockwork, showering his insides with his seed.  
This time when Sherlock pulled out he used two fingers to spread the others gaping hole, watching with a serene sort of interest as globules of cum seeped out, the rest trapped within his womb. It was sickeningly beautiful in a way.  
Mycrofts heat was coming to an end and Sherlock could tell, his senses slowly turning to normal. While he would remain by his brothers side until Mycroft was fully over the heat, Sherlock now lay with some space between them, his body to hot and sweat slicked to want to be pressed so close to another.  
 **“You look... _larger”,/i >_** he muttered, reaching around to rest his open palm on Mycroft’s slightly inflated stomach, pressing down with his fingers and feeling the cum shift beneath the pressure.

Mycroft took his time to recover, hearing how his pulse slowed down just like his heartbeat, slowly it came to a normal pace. While it still was faster, due to the heat, it was getting normal once again, a strong indicator for the end being close. He let Sherlock do as he pleased, ignoring how it hurt a bit as the younger spread apart his hole, watching the inner process.  
Sherlock had always been interested in the most strange things, it didn’t surprise the elder that he was interested in it. It wouldn’t even surprise Mycroft would Sherlock take a miniature camera to show it inside Mycroft, just to see what would happen with the semen inside the womb. That was how Sherlock worked, and Mycroft could still remember the time he had cut open insects to see how they were built. It was a Holmes’ curiosity and the urge to know.  
 **“Naturally”** , the elder said quietly, chewing on his lower lip and tasting sweat - he really, really would have to shower after this, for a few hours preferably, and to wash every inch of his body until he would be clean again. The horrible thought that, now, he would smell like a bonded Omega to signalize that he was taken crossed his mind, a horrible thought because he would smell like Sherlock.  
Not that he currently would complain about said smell, but he had actually never smelled Sherlock while being clean.  
 **“Your semen is currently saved inside me until the heat will be over, to produce children. It will fade once I take the pill.”**  
Now that he could think clearly again, Mycroft knew that he had to - now that the incredible mating urge was sated and now that he didn’t think about getting pregnant anymore. It was strangely comforting to have his mind back again, so wonderfully in use and in perfection like before. Close to it, at least, because there still was a haze over some functions, due to the heat.

A growl fell from Sherlock’s lips at the mention of Mycroft taking the pill but he soon cut the noise short, Sherlock snorting a little and rubbing his throat and neck before he nodded. Instincts told him to do everything in his power to make sure that Mycroft carried his undeveloped children, but luckily his mind spoke louder, over powering his body needs and making him able to see sense. Just because his body craved to spawn didn’t mean he would be pleased by the eventual outcome.  
He did not like children.  
And more often than not children did not like him.  
The maid came again with fresh sheets and fruit, leaving them outside the door for the others to take as they pleased. Sherlock brought them inside but didn’t bother to change the bed sheets, just laying them out in a pile for them both to lie on top of while they fed.  
It was strange to think that hours ago he had been so overwhelmed with the idea of fucking his brother. And now they just lay there side by side with an awkward gap on Sherlock’s behalf, perched on the side of the bed eating fruit to keep their fluids up.  
Eventually when Mycroft’s heat had fully faded and the two suddenly snapped back into full control of their minds, Sherlock stood and swallowed thickly, pacing back and forth along the room while his fingers clenched and unclenched by his side.  
 **“Well clearly that experiment did not go to plan. Six days. That’s how long it takes before the lack of suppressants induces a heat. More powerful it seems, able to affect those around you. Interesting”** Sherlock mused to himself, chewing his lower lip between two teeth while he mentally plotted out the information. Time scales and the differing personality traits of Mycroft throughout the experience, as well as how own level of detachment from his usual state of mind.  
 **“So are we bonded now? What exactly does that entail?”** he asked, honestly unsure what that would mean for the two of them. Whatever the outcome he would find a way to make it suit his needs. He would not let his own life be effected by something so trivial as a ‘mate’.

The moment he felt that his heat was over - signalised by the fact that he now was fully capable of feeling how rough Sherlock had been, how unpleasantly his arse was pulsating, how sticky and sweaty he was and the fact that he was so incredibly exhausted that he nearly fell asleep - he reached out to the pills, swallowing two with a glass of water, feeling as if they were starting to work immediately - which was impossible, of course, but it calmed down his nerves.  
Sherlock’s pacing made him nervous, and a bit dizzy from watching, but he only settled back on the bed, being too tired to move and knowing that it would only hurt. No moving for the next day, he remembered his biology teacher tell him, and sleep. The latter would have to wait until this conversation, which he had expected, would be over.  
 **“For you, it nearly means no changes”** , Mycroft replied, eyes following his brother carefully, afraid that he would go out and be disgusted for the rest of the week or longer. But realisation that Sherlock had just said ‘experiment’, a word making Mycroft’s senses tingle out of alarm, hit him, making Mycroft sit up and grit his teeth as he was given pain because of that.  
 **“Experiment?”** , he asked, but he quickly deduced it by what Sherlock had said, blinking in something close to anger, **“Of course. Your explanation why you took my suppressants has been rather unbelievable, but now I see why. An experiment to find out how I behave during the heat and during pre-heat, how dare you?”**  
It was hard to be angry towards his Alpha, towards the person who could order him on his knees and get the result seconds later. It was like working against a god, being the puppeteer’s puppet. Sherlock had an incredible amount of power over Mycroft now, even if he wasn’t aware of it. There were different kind of bonds, but the one Sherlock had created was to be compared to a d/s-relationship, with one ordering and the other one following the commands - and, which was the worst aspect, even liking it.  
 **“You insufferable brat!”** , he spit out, glaring at Sherlock, **“Look what your little experience ended in! We are bonded, for a life-time, meaning that suppressants won’t work anymore on me. My body will reject them. You will have to go through this every heat, Sherlock, you will loose your precious mind for three days in a row every month now. Are you happy?”**  
Mycroft was aware that this probably was the worst thing to do right now. Sherlock’s instincts would want to growl at Mycroft for the lack of respect, he would probably want to punish Mycroft for daring to speak to his Alpha like that. It would be worth it, though, the Omega told himself, standing up under pain to walk over to the en-suite bathroom.  
 **“Get out of my sight, Sherlock, before I consider telling mother the truth about her cat’s death.”** Now, he had probably enraged Sherlock even more, but for the moment he didn’t care, even with the instinct to curl up on Sherlock’s feet where he would be safe, and protected and out of danger, being there.

In an instant Sherlock was over Mycroft’s body, one hand firmly wrapped around his brother’s throat while he pressed his weight down onto Mycroft’s tender self.  
His lips curled back and looked as if he were going to bite Mycroft though he seemed to take control of himself, snorting and pulling away roughly but with an air of unhinged static around him, crackling in the air as if his anger had taken a physical form.  
 **“Clearly this was NOT what I wanted to happen. But regardless of the outcome I would have thought you of all people, the always so in control Mycroft, would be able to get over yourself for ten seconds and help me work out exactly what we’re going to do with the situation”**  
The truth was Sherlock didn’t want their mother to find out. She would know of course, but he wished that wasn’t the case. His body felt strange. Like some invisible pull towards Mycroft, to dominant and control but at the same time protect him.  
He was used to feeling inferior to his brother so the sudden switch of power was both welcome but feared.  
This was too much at once.  
 **“If what you say is true then fine. For three days I will come to your aid and help you through your heat. I’m sure within due time new suppressants will be invented that work on bonded omega’s, and if not...well I’m sure I can make my own chemical formula that will work just as well and twice as fast”** he assured himself.  
 **“For god sake Mycroft stop looking like that, it’s so...weak”,** he sighed and pinched between his brows, turning form Mycroft so he didn’t have to see the accusatory glare his brother insisted on giving him.  
This had been a mistake. But it was done now. There was no point dwelling on the past.  
 **“you can’t tell anyone anyway. If you tell them what I have done you’ll be openly admitting to being an Omega, and even worse, and Omega bonded by their own brother”,**  
Sherlock knew Mycroft’s pride wouldn’t allow that no matter what Sherlock had done, or intended to do to him.

********“I can’t hide it anymore Sherlock, don’t you understand?”**  
** Mycroft felt the urge to run a hand through his hair, to pull on it to just ignore this anger he felt. This wasn’t Sherlock’s fault, he had let him in even though Mycroft should have never opened this bloody door. Taking a few deep breaths, and pushing away the desire to apologise to Sherlock because his brother had deserved it and a Holmes didn’t apologise, never, he shook his head.  
 **“Once I will be washed and cleaned, your scent will be on me. Not only because of our mating acts, but also because you bonded me. Meaning that every Alpha, every Beta and every Omega who knows us both can smell that my own brother bonded me. And those who don’t know you can smell that I am taken and not to touch.”**  
He raised an eyebrow.  
 **“Didn’t you pay attention to your biology classes or was the information of a trivial nature for you?”,/b >  
** Mycroft rubbed his throat, still being able to feel Sherlock’s grip on it. He had whimpered at this moment, like a dog who was kicked by his owner, and that was embarrassing. Hopefully there would be a way to get out of this. A way to weaken the bond or break it. Anything, just not being his brother’s puppet.  
Sighing, he turned, looking at Sherlock’s back.  
 **“The bond makes it possible for you to give me instructions. Orders, so to say, commands I will follow without thinking because of my instincts. The nature of our relationship will be comparable to a master, slave one, meaning that you are the dominant mate and therefore the one in charge. Practically, you now old every right over me, even considering the laws or anything else. No doctor will be permitted to treat me without your allowance, and no one probably will dare to touch me when you haven’t given the allowance.”**  
It was a horrible thought.  
 **“It also will be the case that you will grow possessive. Wanting to know everything I do in order to keep me safe and yours, the urge to let anyone know what I am yours. You have seen Alphas on the street Sherlock, you will behave like them.”**

**********A cold lump had appeared in Sherlock’s throat which was slowly chilling his insides to the bone. Not born from guilt, god no, but bitter regret for his actions. Clearly this experiment was not his most successful. Even though the outcome had produced rich data, Sherlock was now convinced that maybe, just maybe, this had been a very bad idea.  
 **“I can find something to cover you scent. You know I can. Give be a week, two at most, and I will have come up with a temporary solution. I can’t do anything about your instincts or my own, at least not yet, but I’m positive I’ll be able to make sure no one else but mother and the maids know what has transpired, and I doubt either of them would go off and tell people”**  
** Truthfully Sherlock did not care for what people thought of him. People assumed he was a psychopath. Being the psychopath who fucked his own brother made no real difference this way or that. People would continue to avoid him, just now for more stupid reasons.  
It could be deduced from that that maybe he intended to try so hard, not for his own sake, my Mycroft’s. Not that he would ever admit this of course, but deep down the guilt clearly played on his mind even if Sherlock didn’t recognise its existence.  
 **“So you have no choice but to listen to what I say? Fine then. Leave. Go and get clean, dress yourself, and I will deal with this mess”** he motioned to the bedroom and flicked his wrist towards Mycroft, sending him on his way while Sherlock wrapped a clean sheet around himself and went and found the maid, instructing her to clean the room while Sherlock retired to his own bedroom to clean himself down and redress in a purple shirt and black suit trousers. If he could he tended to spend his days around the house dressed in as little as possible, but now he felt that eh needed to be clothed, for his and Mycroft’s sake.  
After a while he went back up to the now spotlessly clean bedroom and waited in the door frame, leaning with his arms folded over his chest.  
 **“Mycroft, are you done?”**


End file.
